Inscriptions
by Nakimochiku
Summary: Of all the things to do, marking me isn't the smartest of them. France x England, oneshot, enjoy.


Inscriptions

Arthur left marks all over his body. Harsh indents of teeth, deep and bleeding, littered the inside of his thighs, matching the ones on Arthur's own skin. Hickies, small and bright red, promised not to fade from his collar or neck any time soon. They would scar him, even when they were gone.

"Of all the things to do, petit lapin, leaving marks on me is not the smartest of them." Francis hissed, shivering slightly as Arthur kissed a path down his body, fingers clenching in the sheets beneath him. Arthur smiled impishly, leaning back up to kiss him on the fully on the mouth, the kiss soft, but never lacking in hunger. Lips moving slow and gentle, he returned the kiss, and didn't really stop Arthur when he moved to his neck again.

"Stupid maybe, but I'm not going to stop." Arthur was already tired, drowsy and physically satisfied. He studied Francis's body. A beautiful supple thing that reminded him of a tiger, fluid. There were kiss marks left over from the last time they had seen each other, and the times before that. And fresh bruises that he knew he hadn't made himself.

Arthur frowned, but didn't say anything, choosing instead to attach his lips to the fluttering pulse under his fingers and suck. Francis just lay his head back and tried to enjoy what happened, ignoring the look Arthur gave him. A look he received too often from eyes that were always clouded with lust or concern. He sighed.

"Don't worry about that." He whispered, petting choppy blonde hair and closing his eyes to softly groan in pleasure when Arthur bit down. "Don't think of anything when you're near me. You do crazy things." Arthur growled something against the soft skin of Francis's stomach, not looking up at him, biting hard enough to draw blood.

In reality, Arthur hated the entire arrangement. He hated only seeing Francis every so often, when the stars were right. He couldn't sate his need for the man in the few hours he was given. He hated not being able to stay the night, out of fear. He hated seeing bruises that he didn't make, because it meant someone else had _touched_ him, and of all things, he couldn't stand for that.

Francis had been the same once, possessive over him, keeping him tightly in his grip, whenever the fates had allowed. Whenever he had the chance. In fact, they were beasts when it came to each other. And they would tear each other apart.

Desire flared in Arthur's gut, building flames that demanded to be fed. And not just by anyone. He gave Francis a smirk. A smirk the other man knew too well. That man. That insufferable man. He was his, Arthur's. And he belonged to that man in the same way. It was a fact, even if he had to fight a war to prove it. Even if he had to carve it into his flesh. And he had once, when he had been young and stupid and hadn't known exactly what he was claiming. Francis still had the scars.  
"I'll mark you. The next person who touches you will know you're mine."

Francis laughed ruthlessly, blue eyes glittering with need, unending need and half concealed malice. "I see. I'm yours, am I?" He pulled Arthur viciously by the hair, up so that their lips brushed when he whispered against his mouth sensually. A card he knew how to play. "Just a while ago you were screaming that I was your god." Arthur grinned, gave back the senseless, basic need that Francis always openly displayed. Always leaked out between the cracks of his mask. He always needed.

"That's right. You can be my god and I can be yours." When they kissed again, it was malicious. Their fervor burned through their bodies and left them speechless with heavy gasping breaths, hands exploring sweat slicked bodies. It wasn't about sex. Not anymore.

Francis gave him a sly lascivious glance, clawing at his back and leaving streaks of red. His eyes glowed, always wanting. "You're a fool for love, petit lapin." Was it love? He didn't know. He just knew that this man belonged to him body and soul. And vice versa.

"If someone has to touch you, I want them to know who they'll be contending with." Arthur grinned cruelly, digging his fingers into Francis's hips. "I'll mark you until you can't wash it off."

Francis's eyes narrowed, that rare mean streak that Arthur somehow adored shining through. "Then I must carve my name into your chest, mustn't I?"

It didn't matter where they put their names. It was already inscribed on their bones.

Owari


End file.
